


Sometimes Luck is Enough

by TheFriendliestPunk



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Ending, Fairgame, Give my boys a happy ending please, I wrote this when I was sad at 11 p.m., M/M, Qrow/Clover, RWBY Volume 7 Spoilers, Volume 7 Chapter 12 didn't happen, fair game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22424083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendliestPunk/pseuds/TheFriendliestPunk
Summary: After a battle of betrayals, famed killer Tyrian Callows is back on the loose, Clover is down for the count, and Qrow is faced with a choice. A story in which my favorite RWBY boys get a happy ending and sometimes a stroke of luck is enough to win the day.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 133





	Sometimes Luck is Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly upset after chapter 12 this volume, so I sat down and spat out 1200 words of sappiness for anyone who wished the story had ended differently. This is my first work on here so feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thanks in advance lovelies!

Qrow’s gaze bounced between the two figures before him. Tyrian, the madman with far more blood than just Qrow’s on his hands now. Tyrian, running back towards the city with glee in every step. And Clover, all dashing smiles and lingering glances when he thinks Qrow isn’t looking. Clover, convulsing with shaky breaths as blood pours out from his side onto the snow.

Tyrian. Clover. Tyrian. Clover.

A strangled cough escapes Clover’s lips. It sends a chill down Qrow’s already trembling body. He wrenches his gaze from his adversary’s retreating form and hurries to his partner’s side.

Partner. A word he never thought he’d use again, certainly not to describe a government lapdog. But those fleeting moments of comfort, the easy banter, that _meant_ something to him, something that couldn’t be ignored when the choice between vulnerability and vengeance stood right before him in a clear divide. And he wouldn’t turn to vengeance; he couldn’t. That would make him just like James fucking Ironwood, the only person in the world he wants to put a blade through more than Tyrian.

The anger doesn’t swallow down easy, but it has to if one fumbling disaster of a man has any chance of saving the other. And in the absence of one extreme, vulnerability hits with all the force of Tyrian’s stinger.

Qrow falls to his knees and skids to a halt at Clover’s side. Blood pools from the wound in his chest like ripples in a fast-expanding pond, lapping at the fabric of Qrow’s pants as it spreads.

Clover’s teal eyes seem blinding against skin fading to a pale sheen in the passing moments. They find Qrow and fill with a sense of fondness that makes Qrow’s heart wrench.

“Someone had to take the fall,” Clover rasps. His smile is so peaceful, so…complacent, and it rattles Qrow to his core.

“And it won’t be you. Not today.” Qrow places both hands firmly over the pulsing wound and pushes down, eliciting a soft grunt of pain from Clover. Qrow falters the tiniest bit before returning the pressure.

Moments pass like hours in the cold, abysmal night and finally, _finally_ the bleeding begins to slow. Clover’s rich, sun-speckled skin has drained to white, but his gaze is still transfixed on Qrow’s face, even if it seems more than a little delirious. His hand comes to rest on Qrow’s after some time. Its pressure is so light that he hardly notices at first—but once in a while, that touch will shift as a shaky index finger brushes over the back of his hand, a reassurance that Clover is still there.

Tremors wrack every corner of Clover’s body, whether from shock or the cold Qrow isn’t sure. Possibly both; without the protection of an aura, there is nothing to shield Clover from the below-freezing temperatures.

Qrow fumbles for a solution for several moments, a panicked fog overtaking his mind and slowing his thoughts. The realization is vexing in and of itself. Qrow doesn’t get flustered. Not when Beacon fell, not when Oz showed back up as some scrawny kid in a bar, not when Jinn revealed that the monster he had been chasing for decades couldn’t be killed. But some charming bastard gets stabbed for both their mistakes and suddenly he blanks.

He can’t blame it on the cold, nor on the plane crash he just survived. He’s come through far worse unscathed. But he can’t bring himself to say it, not when his only line of hope in a long time might slip away beneath his fingertips.

So Qrow does the only thing he can think of. He gingerly withdraws his hands from Clover’s side, hating the way the gore squelches between his fingers, removes his own ragged cape, and drapes it over Clover’s shivering form. It won’t protect against the cold seeping into Clover’s unprotected back against the snow, but it should stave off the wind chill somewhat. And it makes Qrow feel like he’s doing something.

Besides, he only has to keep the man alive until another Atlas ship is sent after them. It shouldn’t be long now. After all, a top priority aircraft with two wanted prisoners on board just crashed under siege. Ironwood will surely spare a few tin can soldiers to come retrieve them.

An unintelligible murmur from Clover snatches Qrow from his spiraling thoughts.

“C’mere,” he tries again, his speech slurred and uneven.

Qrow stoops over to lean his ear close to Clover’s face, feeling each reassuring breath fan his skin. And then, so faint he almost misses it, Clover plants a kiss on his cheek. It is merely a brush of lips against his face, but the action’s purpose is unmistakable.

Qrow rocks back on his heels, stunned. That self-satisfied smile never leaves Clover’s lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for…for a long time,” he whispers. The last of his words dissolve into a coughing fit that leaves him gasping.

“Hush. Save your strength.” His heart still doing backflips and his brain still reeling, Qrow places two fingers gently against the curve of Clover’s jaw, as close to something intimate as he thinks he can manage. An acknowledgment and a plea.

Clover’s bleary gaze shifts from Qrow to a point over his shoulder. Qrow turns his head to find the first promises of sunlight gracing the horizon, tiny lines of gold against the lavender sky.

_Still looking for the good things amongst the turmoil._ It almost makes Qrow smile. Almost. He turns back to see a light of determination in Clover’s devilish teal eyes that shows no sign of fading. And like every time their gazes meet, he isn’t sure whether he is truly seeing Clover or himself reflected. This time, he guesses it’s both.

Flashing lights illuminate the horizon in the opposite direction. Flash, flash, pause. Flash, flash, pause. Approaching aircraft. Soon enough, it closes enough distance to hear the engine’s whir above the wind.

Time to make a decision. Qrow almost knows which one to pick before Clover calls him closer again.

“Go while you can, Qrow,” he says, his voice achingly gentle.

Qrow scoffs at him, aiming for levity he doesn’t feel.

“Here I thought this whole mess was because you wanted to bring me in.”

Clover offers him a smile that feels like forgiveness.

“We have…higher priority targets. Besides, I’ve already let one slip through my fingers.” Sadness fills Clover’s gaze as he pauses to catch his breath. “What’s one more?”

_The medics are on their way. He doesn’t need you anymore,_ Qrow tells himself. The sentiment stings, and it’s one he doesn’t think Clover would share.

But it’s true that there are a lot of stories that need endings before the day is done and more people are counting on his help than just Clover. And sometimes the best course of action isn’t the easiest.

Qrow places a hand on Clover’s shoulder and lets it linger. With a deep breath that speaks of resolution, he raises himself upright and sets off in the direction Tyrian headed in. A longing Qrow is suddenly forced to acknowledge pulls his attention back to Clover one last time.

He will heal. They will both heal. They just need time to prove it.

“You’d better stay alive, Clover,” Qrow rumbles, and for a moment there is something very tender in those vermillion eyes. “You still owe me a real kiss when this is over.”


End file.
